hiatus : c.t.h.

"gotta zayn"

The city was alive - at least that's what they say. All I could see was deadness. Dead lights, providing their shadowy, flawed light like they were being forced into a job they despised. Dead people, shuffling along with their hands in their pockets, their mouths clamped shut against the cold. Dead buildings, their windows dark and empty, their height stretching into the dead sky. It held no stars tonight, none that I could see. The artificial light of the city outshines the stars, even though the city doesn't shine at all.

I leaned forward, my entire weight depending on the railing that separated me from empty air. I was ill prepared for the biting chill tonight, my body wrapped feebly in a shirt and pajama pants, sandals thrown haphazardly on my feet. I'd needed out of my apartment by the river as soon as possible, needed to breathe.

But the deadness of it all - it was staggering. My lungs were sucking in air, but was I breathing? In the way that a person should be? It felt like a requirement, living - not a privilege. And maybe I was crazy, but I could hear a low whining in my ears, underlining every noise from 200 feet below me with a sort of static, making my temples pound.

I guess it was beautiful. Even if it was dead. After all, the museums are beautiful, but everything is dead inside them. Art galleries, dressed up corpses attending their own funerals, fall leaves. Was everything that held beauty dead? In any case, everything that held beauty would be dead. Someday.

Or maybe beauty was preserved in death, frozen in its pursuit of age. Or maybe beauty was death. Whatever. I wasn't a philosophy major. I was a business major, and what did that even mean, really?

I was doing it again, rabbit trailing. My psychologist said it was because I had too many thoughts, and that that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But it didn't feel like an advantage to always be thinking. My mind never slowed down.

I slipped my legs in between the railing, sitting on the lowermost pole and swinging my feet over the city, the freedom rushing to my head. The sensation of nothingness, the nothingness beneath my feet and around my head and inside my head made me giddy.

Suddenly, my phone rang, jolting me forwards so I knocked my head against the rail. "Hello?" I asked blearily.

The voice was frantic - it belonged to my best friend. "I got your note - thank God you answered - listen, you can't do this, you can't, please - " her voice broke, and she was running. "Listen to me - "

I smiled wanly - she would be the one to catch me out. "Bye," I said softly into the phone, and hung up, cutting off her loud protests. In one smooth movement, I slid my whole body onto the other side of the railing and jumped. And the only thing I could feel was absolute freedom.

Ciara leaned back in her chair, a sense of finality washing over her. The piece had come like water, flowing from her fingers into the keys. The trip to the top of the tower had been exactly what she needed to get this project done.

Her phone buzzed on her nightstand table, and she rolled her desk chair over to pick it up, smiling a little when she saw Calum's contact come up on the screen.

STUD : finish your piece yet?

ME : Yeah, just done. The field trip really helped. Thanks, Cal.

STUD : YAYY :D
STUD : WHO'S THE BESTEST FRIEND YOU'VE EVER HAD? TELL ME.

ME : I mean, my upper school friends were pretty great.

STUD : yes but did they help you write a bangin piece for a magazine that your gonna win the contest with

ME : *you're

STUD : just answer

ME : No. No, they didn't.
ME : But they were great

STUD : but im greater

ME : Whatever

STUD : that means a lot

ME : Fine. Thank you, dear Calum, for everything you did to help me write this essay, and I hope you prosper in life and don't have to busk forever. Also, I hope you never get a girlfriend who doesn't like needy guys because that would never work out.

STUD : im not needy?? jerk

ME : Your skill with words continues to inspire me

STUD : how come you're never this sassy irl

ME : Did you just use the expression "irl?"

STUD : ANSWER THE QUESTION

ME : Because when I'm writing I have time to think up snappy comebacks and in real life, I panic and say dumb things.

STUD : no you panic and say smart things

ME : Whatever

STUD : i grow weary of your teenage angst
STUD : did i sound smart there i tried to

ME : congrats!! ur so smart!! weary is such a ginormous word!!
ME : Did I sound dumb there? I tried to.

STUD : im blocking you

ME : ...Whatever

STUD : GOTTA ZAYN

ME : Did you just...
ME : DON'T BRING IT UP
ME : THAT'S A PAINFUL SUBJECT YOU GOOEY CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE

STUD : of all the questionable things in those texts im gonna chose to address the fact that you like one direction that much
STUD : didn't peg you as the type

ME : Don't be close-minded. Smart people can like One Direction. People are not less because they like something popular.

STUD : IM SORRY
STUD : there's nothing wrong with liking one direction
STUD : i just figured you were too smart and too old

ME : NO ONE IS TOO SMART FOR ONE DIRECTION
ME : They cross all boundaries, whether dumb, smart, old, or less old

STUD : ill remember that
STUD : how did you deal with zayn leaving

ME : .... i gotta go. buy drag me down on itunes.

STUD : BYEEEE :D
STUD : ALSO I WANT TO READ YOUR THINGIE ON SUNDAY OK

ME : MAYBE. BYE.

Ciara set the phone down, smiling to herself when she heard it keep buzzing. But he could wait. She had an entry to submit.

And God, she swore to herself that if she won, she would tell Calum he was the best friend she had ever had times a thousand.

(a/n)

school's back and so am i!! lol this should mean i'm much less here but this is how i procrastinate. anyway i really like writing the chapters where they're texting so hope you don't have a problem with that